The Break
by Lyon.The.Demon
Summary: Five years ago, Jasmine gave herself up after killing multiple people. Now assigned to a BAU case, she gets the break she asked for, and is able to help catch another criminal. But will her new found break give her another break-A psychotic one, that is?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Alright. This goes out to all those fans that I made a long time back. Thanks for your time in reading my stories, whether they were completed or not. ( Most of them not, unfortunatley. ) And thanks also for you time in leaving me reviews, telling me how you liked my stories, even pointing out errors in my stories, giving me encouragement, and just in general being an awesome audience. I must say I'm very sorry to disappoint you all in the fact that I haven't been able to continue some of my other stories, and I must ask for your forgiveness; I have come across a very rough patch in my life, and this year has just been hectic. Things are starting to look up however, and I find myself with a bit of free time now, and several ideas for stories. So I'll try to work on getting my other stories finished, but until then, I need to try and get my creative juices flowing again. I'll try to update whenever I can, and I'm going back to my first genre, Criminal Minds, because I absolutely love messing with Reid. Once more, I hope you all can forgive me for not only my long absense, but my inability to continue my other stories until now. Here's to hoping I can change that, really soon._

_- With Love, Lyon_

**Five Years Prior. Indianapolis, IN. IMPD HQ.**

" Search me. "

A woman in her late teens stood before the IMPD in their home office, dressed in a normal, solid black colored teeshirt and boot cut, denim jeans. She wore calf length, black leather boots with two inch heels. Her ears were peirced several times over, with several multi-colored studs and silver hoop earrings dangling from each hole. Her dark blue eyes were fixed steadily upon the uniformed officer before her, and she waited, with her arms spread to the side and her legs a few feet apart. The male hesitated, possibly because of the pale palor of her skin, or the crumpled, bedraggled, crimson colored hair she sported, which hung in an unbrushed mess down to her shoulders.

She had come in ten minutes ago, and asked to be showed into a room with video cameras active, and rolling, and then asked for the entire IMPD squad to come see her. And while she was just a young girl, the manner in which she had asked for everything-calm, cool, collected and confident-had brought everyone swarming to her, wondering what was going on. Finally, after a few minutes of hesitation, the uniformed officer in the room finally started to pat her down. It was brisk and light, and after a few minutes, his head popped up and he said to the investigator that the girl had also asked for, " She's clean. "

" Would you like to send me through a metal detector, also? " She asked, the second after she was proclaimed to be clean, but the investigator, dressed almost as casually as she and sitting down at the desk in the middle of the room, shook his head and gestured with a tanned hand toward the chair on the other side of the table, in front of where he sat.

" No. Please, sit down. Perhaps now you can tell us why you've asked for us all here? "

His tone was kind, his voice low and slightly gruff, though the crinkles around his pale green eyes that shone with a kind of hardness that expected the worst, but hoped for the best, showed her she'd probably taken him from a good day with his family. Or a celebration. She tilted her head slightly, though she finally nodded to the officer, who moved to stand by the door, not like he was preventing her from leaving. She didn't want to leave; not this time. Taking hold of the back of the chair she was offered, the woman scooted it out to sit down, before she returned to studying the investigator. He was getting on in his years; she estimated his age to be about fourty, perhaps a little over even that. His dark brown hair was smattered with grey and silver here and there, and even the slight beard that he sported-more of a shadow than anything-was etched with the same grey and silver colors.

He had to have been tall; he towered a few feet over her 5'1 form even when they were both sitting. He was also lanky, and possibly a little too thin to be considered healthy, as his dark brown shirt was almost falling off his chest in a baggy fashion. His unkepmt brows, dark brown also, smattered with grey and silver, drew into a furrow over his hues as he himself, studied her. He was the first one to shatter the newfound silence; just like she'd wanted.

" Well, you've gotten what you wanted, miss. You have the entire IMPD here, watching your video tape in real time. And yes, those little cameras in the back of the room are working, recording your every move. You've been searched and found clean of any weapons; you're completely defenseless in a room with an armed guard, and with several other officers at the ready outside. You're a star, almost. But what show are we in, and what's your name? " He paused, before adding. " If it helps, my name is Detective Sean Quartes. "

This time, the young girl shifted to where her feet were touching the floor, though just barely. She folded her hands against the desk of the table, and looked Detective Quartes right in the eye, before she started speaking, barely registering the gasp of the guard at the door, or the slight widening motion of the Detective's eyes. No... She had a story to tell.

" My name is Jasmine DeNava. But I'm certain you know me better as Psycho Bitch. I loved talking with all of you in those letters I left with the bodies. I'm also glad about all the news coverage I got, but lately, it's grown a little stale. I find myself wanting more out of life than simply killing and mutilating the bodies afterward. Now, I'm quite certain right now, you don't believe me. You can go ahead and question me further, as soon as I'm done speaking, but for now, please hold your tongues. I would like to say what I have to say before I am interrupted. " She paused once, giving the detective a meaninful look before she continued almost in a monotone type of voice. " If you ask, I can tell you the exact manner in which I killed each and every one of my victims, and even tell you about the bodies that weren't found yet. I can tell you how I burried them, and where each of them were and are burried. But I haven't come to you for this alone.

" No. I ask for help, actually. I've been reading lately about how some criminals that are caught undergo therapy, and eventually come to help big-wig criminal investigators, even going up so far as the FBI after rehabilitation. That's what I want to do. I want to help catch people like me. So I'm starting... by catching myself. "

Detective Sean turned around slowly, taking his eyes off Jasmine only to glance through the oneway mirror to the police officers he knew to be standing behind there, asking silently for directions what to do. Astounded.

**Present Day. Quantico, VA. BAU HQ.**

" That son of a bitch. " Morgan exclaimed, throwing down the picture of two bodies, laying side by side, even as J.J. continued to brief them on the case.

" The recent bodies were found in Crawfordsville, Indiana, same as the last four. Same M.O., too; the male, James Cardison, was shot once through the head, and the female, Judy Harrier, was positioned next to the male with her neck slashed open. Both were beaten severely and all but hacked to peices. There were signs of vaginal penetration on Judy, and anal penetration on James, but no DNA was left at the scene. They were both posed, naked, under a bridge on 231. They were found this morning at 7:29 by a jogger who happened to see Judy's arm in the water of Sugar Creek. Time of death was estimated for both around five hours prior. They were both reported missing about a week ago, but neither showed signs of malnutrition or dehydration. "

" So this creep was keeping them fed? " Prentiss chimed in, watching J.J. in disbelief, though she was answered by Gideon, who was leaning back in his chair, his reading glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose and his eyes cast at the picture of the crimescene.

" Looks like it, but there's a lot of rage to the kills. He's methodical, and yet unorganized. Most of these bruises and cuts are in random places, as though done out of anger. "

" That's rare in an unsub like this. " Hotch glanced toward Gideon, but was only met with a nod, before his own hues returned to the case file. " It says here this is the third time two bodies have been found like this. The other two times showed a man and a woman, each with similar markings, each killed the same way. "

" So we've got an unsub who targets couples, rapes them, and kills them, then degrades their bodies by disposing of them naked, where someone will eventually find them... " Reid offered up, even as his attention was caught by J.J.'s phone ringing. Every pair of eyes in the room turned to J.J. as she answered the ringing cell, even though the conversation only took a few seconds. With a quiet breath, she said quietly, " That was Detective Quartes from the IMPD. Martin Veranos and Alissa Phenas were just called in missing. They fit our Unsub's type. "

Hotch stood with a sigh.

" Wheels up in ten. "


	2. Chapter 2

**Indianapolis, IN. IMPD HQ.**

" Hi, I'm Agent Jareau, we spoke on the phone? " J.J. said quietly, extending her hand to the tanned digits waiting for her from the male standing in front of her.

" Hey there, thanks for coming. Detective Sean Quartes. " He paused, taking his hand back from J.J.'s only to raise it to rub at his forehead.

Hotch, who was standing directly behind J.J., noticed there were dark bags under his eyes, and his wrinkled shirt was only half tucked into his trousers; he must have been up for a while. Hotch was barely even listening as J.J. introduced the entire team, as his eyes were scanning over the overheated work place they'd been shown to, and told they could set up in. It looked more like a conference room than anything, but it was better than a few places they'd been shown to. Prentiss was already setting up the pictures they'd recieved on the white board, and Reid was sprawled over a map that they'd marked up with the dump sites.

Gideon and Morgan were pouring over the case files of the last three pairs of victims, and Hotch had in his hands the information on the newest victims, Martin and Alissa. According to the reports, they'd gone missing around Crawfordsville, the same area where the last two bodies were placed. They were supposed to go to a movie, and never returned. So there was about a three hour window where they could have picked up, and miles in distance to cover. Hotch was already thinking about going to give the families a visit when something Detective Quartes said caught his attention.

" ... By the way, Miss Jareau, there's someone who we have who wants to help with the investigation. She's... actually the one who suggested we call you when the first two bodies were found, but it wasn't until now that we listened. "

" And why didn't you listen to whoever this is? " Hotch asked, his gaze shifting from the case file in his arms to the detective, who shifted on the spot, glancing away before finally coming to meet his gaze.

" Well... because we just weren't entirely sure about her. You see... about five years ago, a bunch of bodies started showing up in this area before. "

" Ah, the Psycho Murders. " Reid piped up, glancing up from his maps for a second. " I remember that. It was all over the news- said person reportedly left a note for the cops with each body, calling themself, 'Psycho Bitch'. It's said that after about three months, the killings just.. stopped, and the case went cold. "

The detective shifted again. " Yes, well... there's a bit more to the story than that. Four months after the last body was discovered to date, we had a young girl walk into the IMPD Headquarters. She had us put her in a recorded room and pat her down before she claimed to be the murderer. " When Detective Quartes paused again, Hotch encouraged, " Is there a point to this...? "

" Yeah.. " He sighed, before continuing, shuffling his hands into the pockets of his trousers. " She requested rehabilitation instead of jail time in return for giving up the locations of the bodies we hadn't found, and details about the kills that no one else could have known. We took her up on it, and these past five years, she's been, according to our psychoanalyst, right as rain. She's even gone so far as to help behind the scenes with some of our work, and we brought her in for this case, too. We think she might be of help to you as well, though I wanted to give you the entire story. You guys are made for profiling, so if nothing else, you'll be able to tell us whether she's really better or not, and you'll be able to tell if she's somehow leading you into a trap or something. "

" You think she'd lead us into a trap? " J.J. questioned, her eyebrow arching, though Detective Quartes quickly shook his head, giving another sigh as he shifted from one foot to the other. " No, not really. But sometimes, with criminals, you just... never know. "

" And you said she's the one who told you to contact us when the first bodies showed up? " Prentiss joined in, turning around from the whiteboard, having placed up all the pictures they'd gotten without looking too heavily at them yet. To this, the detective nodded his head. " So why didn't you listen? "

Before the detective could answer, however, Hotch glanced to Prentiss, saying quietly, " It doesn't really matter right now. We're here, and yes, " Hotch then turned back to Detective Quartes, " We'd like to meet this... "

" Jasmine. "

**~Minutes Later~**

" Jasmine DeNava. " With a smile twisting her lips slightly upward on the side, Jasmine extended her hand to that of a certain Aaron Hotchner, who took her pale hand and shook it firmly; whether this was to show her he had confidence in her, or had heard about her past and wanted to intimidate her, Jasmine didn't know. That didn't stop her from arching a brow at him, even though his back was already turning to her as he moved to face what had to be his teammates.

So Jasmine watched in silence as the obvious leader of the group all but commanded the attention of the other personel with just a movement and a look; the second all pairs of eyes were turned toward him, he nodded back toward Jasmine as she slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans and introduced her, none too formally.

" Team, this is DeNava. She wants to help with this case, so let her. Treat her as you would any other officer willing to inject themselves into this investigation. " Strangely enough, Jasmine thought she caught some double meaning on those last few words, though she couldn't entirely pinpoint them. -That didn't mean no one else did, as she glanced around the room, and saw knowing looks cast to each other. But then Hotchner was continuing, and Jasmine strained to keep perfect concentration on his words; whatever the hidden meanings were, they wouldn't stand up to scrutiny-and questioning.

" The way our case is going, we have a week or possibly a day less than that to figure out who our unsub is, and get together a working profile and location. Prentiss, I want you to come with me when I go to interview the families of the newest victims. Gideon-"

" I'll go to the dump sites, see what I can't find there to tell us about our Unsub. " Gideon replied, still lounging in an arm chair; for a second, Jasmine thought the look in his eyes as he watched Hotch was almost daring, as though he were trying to get Hotch to disagree with him, though she ruled out that possibility. Hotch was the leader; but this Gideon... he was the commander. Hotch spoke next.

" Alright. Reid, Morgan, I want you to stay here with Jasmine, try to figure out where our Unsub might live, start working on a profile. See what you come up with. "

Jasmine's eyes turned toward the two that nodded this time; evidently Morgan and Reid, the two whom she'd probably be spending a lot of time with. Polar opposites, as one was big, burley, muscular and dark skinned, while the other was tall, lankey, thin and almost as pale as she. The larger of the two males stood up as Hotch and Prentiss turned to leave, and extended his own hand bravely toward her with a small, wary smile.

" Hey there. I'm Morgan. " Jasmine took his hand the same way she took Hotch's and shook it firmly, looking him straight in the eye as she allowed her lips a twitch upward in what she thought would be a comforting smirk. She noticed the next second that Morgan looked away, but only to watch as Gideon himself left the room, leaving only the three of them. Morgan dropped her hand as the other male, Reid, evidently, stood also, and gestured to the pictures on the table that were left behind by the agents.

" Um... these are the files, information, and well, generally everything we have so far on this Unsub. We should go through them, now. "

Jasmine sent Morgan another glance before she sauntered around his form, noticing with sharp eyes his slightly arched eyebrow at her blatant dismisal of his presence, though her attention turned from her surroundings to the picture at the center of the table in an instant; it was of the latest male body, complete with bruises - they looked like the bruises she'd often inflicted on her victims, - with slash marks, - sometimes, she'd use a knife on her male companions just to watch the crimson river flow... - and a bullet wound in the middle of his head - seeing that little black circle almost made her dizzy with remembering the first time she'd ever used a gun and how powerful it had made her feel.

Jasmine didn't hear Morgan calling her name until the third time, but she was already holding the photograph, turning it upside down in the center of the table. Then she looked at everything else.

... This was going to be fun, Jasmine thought to herself.

~ Diane Arbus once said, "A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know." ~

_A/N: Please Review. I live on your comments, critisism and encouragement, and if I'm going to be able to continue with this story far faster than what I have, it would be nice to have a few reviews more than I already have with this story to keep me drudging on. Love ya'll. ~_


	3. Chapter 3

**Indianapolis, IN. IMPD HQ.**

" You think it's alright to have her helping us on this case? " Morgan turned to address Reid, who was stirring spoonful after spoonful of sugar into his coffee. Normally, Morgan would say something about that, but right now, he was having too many doubts about the young woman they'd left in the conferance room to sort through all kinds of information on her own while they went to get coffee. Of course, that was only half of the truth.

What was Hotch thinking, allowing an ex-criminal in on a BAU case, especially one of such high merit, when it was so obvious that there was _something_ going on inside that girl's head that just wasn't _normal_? Morgan was dragged from his thoughts when Reid finally replied,

" I don't know, to be honest, but don't you think everyone deserves a second chance? I mean it's clear that she came to the Police with the intentions of not only turning herself in, but getting help for her afflictions. I think that's very admirable, don't you? " Reid turned what had to have been the equivalent of puppy-dog eyes on Morgan, though the bigger male wasn't having anything sway his thoughts. " Nah, don't you go defending her, Reid. I agree that's good and all, but it's only been five years. Dilusions like hers don't just up and... Poof! Maybe she's just going through a dormant period, and any second she'll snap and pick up the nearest peice of glass and start trying to kill us, eh? "

Morgan leant against the desk that the coffee maker was placed on and picked up his own cup, sugar free, and took a large swig, only to have to refrain from sputtering the liquid all over the tile floor before him. Wow, that was still hot.

" Isn't that a little harsh though? " Reid questioned, setting down the spoon he'd been using to stir the sugar and blowing on the rip of his coffee before taking a tenitive sip from his mug, still watching Morgan over the rim, who promptly sighed.

" Look. I don't know. It just doesn't feel right. Something's off. "

" So do you want to go check on her? " Reid arched a brow, though Morgan shifted himself off the counter and turned halfway to face Reid before nodding. " Actually, yes. I do. "

With a roll of his eyes, Reid too, moved away from the counter, following Morgan as he turned and strode toward the conferance room. As they neared the room, however, both Morgan and Reid's ears picked up the sound of faint music; which meant wherever it was coming from had to be blaring. It only made the both of them send a glance toward each other when they came to the door of the conferance room, and recognized that the noise was coming from inside; evidently in their absense, Jasmine had somehow found a C.D. player and a C.D. to play in it, because the second they opened the door, Morgan and Reid realized just how loud the music was blaring.

But while Morgan's bewildered gaze came to rest on Reid, he found the younger male was already starting to sway to the loud, upbeat music. Reid caught his gaze and instantly stopped moving, and glanced away with a faint amount of flush in his cheeks, though he stated loudly to be heard above the music,

" What? I've always rather liked Rock This Town, by BSO. "

" By _Who?_ "

" The Brian Setzer Orchestra. Th-they were formed in 1990 by the frontman of the Stray Cats, Brian Setzer, and the song was originally played by the Stray Cats, but the BSO reformed it into a longer, more complicated version of- "

" Reid! "

Reid jumped slightly, startled, and finally glanced back at Morgan, who just shook his head in that silent way of his that always told Reid he'd already said too much that Morgan wasn't interested in knowing. With a sigh, Reid glanced around the room, trying to find Jasmine, and realized that his eyes were falling upon the twirling form of her backside, as she twisted back toward the board, where she'd pinned up a large map of Indiana. On such a map were several different red dots, green push pins, and black lines connecting some of the dots and pins. Every time she'd turn back toward the table, shifting through all the pictures, files, and evidence bags as though there was no order to anything, like she was simply picking up things that caught her interest. But she was intensely working on something, because then she was turning back to the board and tacking a push pin in the middle of the map, and using the red marker to put a dot right next to it.

Neither Morgan, nor Reid wanted to ruin whatever it was that they were seeing, Reid especially, because even with as hard as she was working, there was a certain sway to her body; as the music would speed up, so would her motions, and every time she spun, her hips gave a little saunter to one side, then the next, and when the music hit a small pause, she stood in once place, looking at the map; even just the soft tapping of her foot seemed to resonate through her entire body, giving her an air of energy and beauty all the same. But then the music picked up once more, and when she spun, her crimson locks of hair would fly into her face, only to be brushed away by a frustrated hand the next second. After what seemed like the longest time, the music finally faded to a complete stop, and so did Jasmine.

Surveying her work, Jasmine tried to give herself a mental shake, and yet her entire body was already shaking vigorously; not from exhaustion, but from the thoughts in her mind. Bloody bodies, the feel of a knife cutting cleanly through warm, wiggling flesh, the smell of such a coppery sustaince...

" DeNava? " Morgan's voice literally made her jump, her dark blue hues flying to his burly form, and even though she knew there was a deep, instinctual defensive and about-to-attack look burning in the depths of such eyes, she couldn't turn it off.

Forcing herself to close her eyes, to take her mind off the two men before her, she leant her hands forward to grip the table tightly, her knuckles turning white with the pressure she used, before she forced her lips to move; to form words. To speak.

" I think I might know where our bodies- ... er. Victi- ... people. Are being taken. "

**Crawfordsville, IN. 812 Water St.**

Hotch and Prentiss exited the Veranos residence, little more frustrated than they had been going in. Evidently, the two kids who'd been picked up this time, Martin and Alyssa, both nineteen. They had little history together, having only become an item six months prior. They'd gone out on regular dates, were seen together in public, Alyssa was the good little straight-A student, Martin was your stereotypical geek, head of the chess club. Martin had been picked on as a kid, but no more than any other highschool kid would have been. There was just nothing unusual about this case, except for the Unsub himself.

Hoping Gideon had something for him, Hotch slid into the drivers seat of the black SUV and pulled out his phone, only to realize it had just started to ring. Flipping it open, he answered,

" Hotchner. "

But he had to smile a little when it was Gideon's voice that flooded through to his ear; speak of the devil.


End file.
